


White Oleander

by LilacPrince



Category: Original Work
Genre: Botany, Greenhouses, I know nothing about science but that will never stop me, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lots of flowers, Love Confessions, Past Character Death, gay love story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:15:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23230807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacPrince/pseuds/LilacPrince
Summary: When apothecary, botanist and scientist Dr. Mithri Wright receives an invitation to study the garden in Reger Castle in the alps, she leaves as quickly as she can. But in the castle she not only finds a lavish garden, but the beautiful Madame Beatrice Ambrose, and a dark family secret.
Kudos: 1





	White Oleander

12th January 1881

The white oleander is a most interesting flower. It's innocent white petals stands out against the green of the earth, like pearls on a dark green bodice, shining brightly in their simple but elegant beauty. In the middle of this whiteness shimmers a yellow heart, from which this beauty sprouts. It is hardly difficult to understand that this most beautiful flower stands for pure, innocent love. However, one must always keep their wits about them when faced with this magnificent creation, for everything about it is poisonous. From the stem, to the petals, to it's intoxicating perfume, tho it's lovely perfume is admittedly safe in lesser doses.

While I was traveling up to the castle in the alps where I've been lucky enough to be invited, I decided to go through my newest books and encyclopedias, which is where I now discovered even more about this marvelous flower. Even for a celebrated apotechary such as myself, there is always more to discover, and I take great pride and joy in discovering as much as I can. There is always more to learn, and my work will never be finished. My colleagues find this particular fact rather daunting, but I find great comfort in it. I don't know what I would do with myself if I found that there was nothing more to learn. Luckily, that is a mystery I will never have to find the answer to, for there still exists so much left to discover. Which is why I found myself in a carriage slowly taking me through the snowy landscape and up to Reger Castle, high up in the mountains, away from the bustling of the city.

During my travels I decided to read through my invite once more, searching for more information than I had already picked up during my first thirty readings. The paper, while stiff and sparkling white, was small, and sparsely worded. It was simply an invite to witness and study the castle's marvelous garden, a suggested time period for my stay, and the sign of one "Madame Ambrose." It is not a name that I am familiar with, and for a moment I must admit that I considered discarding the invitation and dismiss it as a scam. But the idea of a garden, waiting for me to discover and study, put an itch in my fingers and a sense of impatience in my heart until I had already booked the tickets. I further admit that I'm curious as to why the Madame Ambrose chose to invite me over the winter season, curious as to what state the garden might be in during these lifeless months, but that thought only hit me once I was already on my way.

Sadly, the boat was awfully late, because of some technical mishap. I fear I left my host waiting, and I was much past the point of "fashionably late", as I've heard it be called. So the itch in my fingers during the coach ride was not only from excitement, but also a worry that my gracious host may find me rude even before we've even met. The anxiousness had grown in my chest so to the point I found it hard to breathe when we finally arrived. The first look of the castle blew all my worries away for a moment, and when I looked up at the tall dark walls the gasp I made was not from nervousness but from awe. The windows were truly beautiful, light amidst the blackness of the stone, and the gothic style that I admit I am rather weak for struck me with awe. The white blanket of snow added a softness to it, easing out the greyness of it all. It was truly beautiful.

While the grounds were covered in snow, the path to the front door had mercifully been cleared, and my heels were just high enough that I could walk up to the door without having my skirts drag in the snow. The door opened before I had even made it up the stairs, and I had scarcely a moment to admire the gorgeousely carved dark wood before I was faced with the strict face of an elder butler. A moustache dominated his face, his grey hair slicked back, and he looked at me with a face that I wasn't certain was suitable to greet one's guests with. He seemed to be ancient, like he had sprung into life at the age of sixty years old, when the castle had been built, and would remain at that age, working until the castle crumbled. I wouldn’t have been to surprised if I were to find out that he was actually a ghost that inhabited the castle were he used to serve.

"Can I help you, Madame?" he asked, and I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. I knew I was dreadfully late, but the driver had been quick to ease my anxiety about it by saying he had sent word to the castle that the boat had been delayed.

"I am Doctor Mithri Wright", I told him, and he glanced me up and down.

"Ah, Doctor Wright", he said, the ice in his voice melting only slightly. "The Madame has been waiting for you."

"The boat was delayed", I explained, shifting forward and back on my feet. It was not out of nervousness, but simply the cold that was getting to me. The welcome I received hardly helped matters, considering that I hadn't even been let in through the door, even after the butler had realised I was an expected guest.

"Gerard?" I heard a voice from inside, and the butler, Gerard I presume, turned his head. I only got a quick look, but I believe I saw his face easing up. "Who is at the door?"

"Dr. Wright has arrived, Madame", Gerard informed.

"Then let her in, for heaven's sake!" Madame Ambrose called out, and I believe I heard excitement in her voice. "It's so cold outside!"

"As you wish, Madame", Gerard muttered as he finally opened the door wider for me, and I gratefully hurried in, my arms wrapped around myself against the cold. The hall was breathtaking, much warmer than I had expected. It was the same black stone, but it was furnished with dark, warm wood, and gentle colours. White, coupled with warm, dark red and gold. It made the big hall appear warmer than it truly was. It was tastefully furnitured, and flowers adorned every nook and cranny. I was already at certain that the garden would be magnificent, considering how many flowers adorned just the hall. A huge staircase lead up to the second floor, it's sturdy steps covered in a dark green carpet. On the wall where the staircase split into two pathways to each side hanged a massive portrait of a man I didn't recognize. But the portraits, furniture or beautiful chandeliers couldn't compete for my attention, because that was taken by the woman standing on the stairs, her dainty hand resting on the golden handrail. She was tall, and utterly beautiful. Her dress was a pure white, contrasting gorgeousely against her dark skin tone. Her beautiful black curls were pulled up in a hairdo, revealing her neck and the earrings she was wearing. A choker of pearls gently hugged her neck. Simple, elegant, and breathtaking.

I remained frozen to the spot, simply staring at this beauty before me, like a goddess that had suddenly graced my presence, before I found my voice.

"Ma-Madame Ambrose, I take it?" I asked, taking a step forward. A smile graced her beautiful face.

"Dr. Wright, I've been expecting you!" Madame Ambrose called, descending the rest of the stairs to meet me. Once more I found my breath stolen, and all I was able to do was look at her as she walked closer to me, the waves her skirt made as she strode down the stairs. When she had descended the stairs I tried to find my voice again, close to once again explain my delay, but the notion dissolved like fog in my mind when she came close, very close, too- She crashed into me before I found my voice, and by then I had to grab her by the elbow to make sure we both didn’t fall over. It would hardly be becoming of me to crash into the floor together with my hostess upon minutes of my arrival. Luckily we both managed to steady ourselves before any of us hit the floor.

"M-my apologies", Madame Ambrose spoke, her voice flustered, as she looked up at me from my arms. Her eyes were big, enticing and mysterious, a deep dark brown that had me thinking of dark wood in a forest or a lake at night. A trail of freckles decorated her 

nose and cheeks, like stardust that had been sprinkled down on her. 

"Not at all, Madame", I spoke. "I am only happy that you didn't fall."

"Thank you, doctor. Could you... guide me back to the stairs, please? I've become rather disoriented."

"Disoriented...?" I repeated, before I realised what she meant. She smiled at me, but it was a smile heavy with sadness, her eyes unfocused. It was then that I realised that she wasn't seeing me.

"I am blind, good doctor", Madame Ambrose explained. "I thought that you were further down the hall, but it seems I was incorrect. Now I'm a little confused as to where exactly I am."

"Ah-" I blubbered like an idiot, before I could regain my senses. "Of course, Madame. I apologize for my stupid question." My cheeks were hot with embarrassment as I gently took her arm and helped her back to the staircase. With her hand on the staircase, she regained the air of elegance that for a moment flusterment had swept aside. She turned to me, and smiled that bright smile of hers again.

"I know that I invited you here to study the garden, and I know you must be anxious to see it. However, it truly makes itself the best during the sun's hours, and I'm afraid it has become rather late. Would you be so kind as to wait until tomorrow before your tour?"

"Of course, Madame", I said, curtsying gently to her, only realising too late that she wasn't able to see it. "It would be an honor to witness your garden at the best time possible, and I must admit that I'm rather weary from travelling. Furthermore, I couldn't possibly force you to stay up just to entertain me."

"You are very kind, doctor. I see I made the right decision to invite you. Gerard will show you to your room, and I look forward to give you a tour tomorrow."

"I look forward to it as well", I said, as she turned and began ascending the stairs once again, her steps confident and her slender fingers gliding softly over the handrail. For a moment I was stuck to the spot, looking wistfully after her, and I didn't come to until Gerard made a noise beside me, clearly wanting to show me to my room already. As he lead me up the stairs and down the right, I glanced around me, but hardly took any note of the lavish decorations of the hallway. My bags had all been brought up to my room, and as soon as I was left alone I made myself ready for bed. I spoke the truth when I said I was weary, and my eyelids are heavy. Yet I'm still also intrigued, both by Madame Ambrose and her exciting personality, as well as the gardens, and what there is for me to discover there. Oh well, it's all something for tomorrow. Now it is high time for me to sleep.

  
  


13th January 1881

Breakfast was, curiously enough, brought to my room. Gerard once more, and his expression had not eased. I wonder if he's still cross about my late arrival, or if there's anything else to his behaviour. I didn't have a chance to ask however, as he left as soon as he had put the tray down. The chef, however, seem to not be cross with me, because the breakfast was delicious. Crepes, eggs, and bread with butter, together with a steaming hot cup of tea, brewed to perfection. It was even enough to take my mind off that I was set to eat in my room.

After breakfast I took my journal and ventured out into the hallway, icey butlers be damned. If I didn't find Madame Ambrose and could begin my tour, then I was certain to at least find somewhere where I could sit down and read for a bit until she was ready to escort me.. Until I found her, I could always begin my own little tour, wandering up and down the hallway looking for a nice armchair to sit in. I did, of course, make certain that I didn't open any doors. A guest must respect their host's privacy after all, so I kept myself to common areas. It was during this little adventure that I found myself in the library. Now, I didn't open the door, of course, as I stated earlier. But the door was open, like an invitation to step inside, and when my eye caught the rows of books I could hardly contain my curiosity. I took a small step inside, convinced that I would only look to see if I could find the Madame Ambrose, and quickly retreat if I didn't.

The library was massive. Heavy bookshelves took up much of the space, looking to fit as many books as possible in the room. Books lined the shelves, and the light of the sun poured in through the big windows, shining on the deep colours of the elegant books. Big, green armchairs that looked to be very comfortable were placed by the windows, together with a coffee table next to each group of arm chairs. On the window sills white oleanders grew in their pots, spilling their gentle colour over the black stone walls. A fire was cracking in the fireplace, spreading a comforting warmth and smell through the space. In that moment I couldn't have pulled myself away from the door even if I wanted to, and luckily I didn't have to. Because in an armchair in the corner, was Madame Ambrose. Her black curls shone in the sun's rays, the light gently caressing her face that was turned against the window. I stood for a moment, and just looked at her, before I gently knocked on the door.

"Madame Ambrose?" I called, and she glanced towards me, a smile growing on her lips.

"Dr. Wright?" she asked with a smile as she rose from the armchair, making her cream skirts flow around her, like milk poured from a porcelain pitcher.

"Indeed", I said, glad that I was able to keep my composure this time. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"Not at all", she said, with that soft smile on her face as she walked up to me. "I assume you are eager to begin our tour?"

"I’d love to", I said, unable to contain my excitement. I was very curious for the garden that I came such a long way to see, and now it was so close. I held my arm out for the Madame, and she happily took it, even though she was the one leading the way. She knew the way well, leading me with such confidence I'm certain that she visits the garden often. We travelled far into the castle, to the very heart of it all, and there, we found it. It was truly magnificent.

In the heart of the castle was a greenhouse, swelling with light, colours, with life. Green leaves and vines covered the ground and climbed up the glass walls. In the middle was a small, artificial pond, with water as clear as glass, and rocks framing it. On the still surface water lilies floated leisurely. Among it all there were gorgeous flowers, steeped in colour. Madame Ambrose lead me inside, and it was like stepping into another world. Together we left the cold castle behind, and found ourselves in summer. Above us was a roof made of glass, where the sun shone through with it's life giving rays. The sweet perfumes of flowers washed against me, wrapping me up in their familiar blanket. All around me the flowers sparkled like jewels, glittering and beckoning me to come closer, to study them, to learn everything about them. Within me the scientist jumped forward, and if I hadn't been in the presence of a lady I would have dashed forward and began my study that instant.

"What do you think, doctor?" Madame Ambrose asked, and it wasn't until then I realised I hadn't spoken yet.

"It is marvelous", I said earnestly, glancing around myself. Despite the heavy snow outside, the cold winds and the ice, it felt like summer. It was like stepping down into a warm bath while knowing that a blizzard is occurring outside. I could feel myself relaxing.

"I'm happy you enjoy it", she said with a smile. "You are, of course, free to come here whenever you wish. The same goes for the library, which I expect is of interest for you. It has several volumes of botany, after all. I'll leave you to it, doctor. Enjoy."

With that the madame loosened herself from my arm, and turned to the door. That moment a cold washed over me, and before I could think I turned after her.

"Wait", I called, and she stopped in the door. "You are not staying? I would love to hear your thoughts on the garden."

Madame Ambrose turned her head over her shoulder towards me, and that sad smile was visible once again, and it stung me to see it again so soon.

"I'm certain I would only be in the way, doctor. I don't know enough to be of any help to you, and I can't even tell which flower is which without my eyes. I'll see you at dinner."

With that she existed the garden, closing the door behind her to not let the air out, and left me standing alone in the garden. I could only look after her, a heaviness in my chest, guilt over causing her pain. She had seemed to take so much pride in this garden, but now that I was here to admire it, she quickly left. Is she really convinced that she would be in the way for me? I find it hard to believe, but I had to accept that she had left. I decided to brush the thoughts aside for a moment, letting the madame do as she wished, and turned my attention to the plants. The love for science and botany took the upper hand, and I didn't notice how late it had become until the garden was dark, and I realised with a start I must have missed dinner. There is far too many excitable discoveries for me to write down here, but I made sure to take good note of them in my scientific journal. After all, there were many flowers which I had never seen before, and I'm eager to know more about. 

However, there was two things that I noticed that made me… curious. For one, I noticed that there’s no life in the garden. Most gardens are full of it, and I don’t mean plants. I mean bugs, beetles, spiders and worms. Those that exist to eat from the plants presented to them, and no matter the security measures that gardeners employ the bugs always find a way inside. I know no garden that doesn’t have as much as a fly within its walls. Except here, apparently, which confuses me. How is it that there’s no bugs? 

Secondly, and this is a discovery that fades in comparison, but I feel it interesting to note down considering what I was reading about during the coach ride up here. There is one particularly magnificent bus in the garden, all the way inside, the centerpiece that captures one’s attention immediately. A lavish bus, full of white oleanders. 

14th January 1881

This day I spent in the library. Both because I wanted to study the volumes there, and because I thought that I might have a chance to speak to Madame Ambrose today. However, she wasn't present, and I lost myself in my work once more. The library contains many interesting and rare volumes, full of hidden knowledge. I was seriously considering stealing a volume or two with me home, but quickly banished the thought from my mind. It would be very dishonest of me, especially after having been invited so graciously, but the idea of parting with the books is very difficult for me still. I look forward to compare them with the books I have brought with me, and to also compare them to the flowers I found in the garden. I believe I recognize a few of them in the books, but I'm curious about a few others. I have however noticed that most of the plants in the books are highly poisonous in some way or another. A curious discovery, that I would love to look further into.

I made another unexpected discovery. In one corner of the library I found volume upon volume on the subject of poisons and immunity against it. But not in the sense that I, as apothecary, am used to, but rather... as making the body immune to poison? The volumes seemed to be convinced that by administering small doses of poison into the body over a long time, the body would build up an immunity against it. The notion seems rather farfetched in my mind, seeing as there are so many different factors this must depend on. Furthermore, one book called upon Alexander the Great for this theory, stating that a prince of India had presented him with a beautiful woman, but that this woman had been fed poison since childhood, and so become poisonous herself. "A single kiss would mean death", as the book stated. However, I have a dear friend who is very interested in history, and is at the moment writing his third volume on Alexander the Great. If there was such a woman, I doubt that my friend would neglect to inform me, seeing as it would combine my interest for botany with his interest for history. 

Farfetched as the idea might seem, I did notice that most of the plants presented in this book are plants I believe I recognize from the garden? I did not make it to the garden before sundown, and without light I can't be certain, so I will let the matter rest until tomorrow where I can see if my theory is true. If the garden does match the books on poison immunity... I wonder what that means? I believe it would be good to ask Madame Ambrose about the more intimate history of the garden, as none of the books I found in the library would even mention this curious discovery.

However, I did not see Madame Ambrose today. She wasn't present at dinner either, and Gerard informed that the Madame had a headache and would be resting for the evening. This time the chef's food wasn't delicious enough to take my mind of that.

15th January 1881

Finally managed to speak at length with Madame Ambrose! I managed to find her in the library this time, and this time I managed to find a subject we could both talk about. I presented her some of my findings from the books I had been permitted to look through, and asked her questions where I was unsure of what the books meant. For example, two books give two completely different years for when the castle and it's garden was built, and it turns out the garden was finished at a later date than the castle. For all her talk about not being any help, Madame Ambrose is very knowledgeable of the history of the castle, and talking with her was both entertaining and informative. After a while of discussions she seemed to ease up around me, and I carefully began my questioning about yesterday's discoveries. 

"Madame Ambrose, I found a rather curious volume yesterday, that I wish to inquire about, if you would permit me?" I said, careful to not push too hard. 

"I will try to be of help, doctor, but since reading isn't a hobby that I partake in particularly often, I can't say how much help I'd be", she said, with that angelic yet sad smile again. As if she was trying to make light of her condition, but as if the loss of her books still pained her. My heart ached for her, and my mind began sketching up a few letters to a few friends of mine who are looking into making books blind people are able to read. Perhaps I could ask them to send a few prototypes over? However, I shall table that for later, and not raise the question with Madame Ambrose until I know for sure. I wouldn't want to raise her hopes only to receive negative replies from my friends. So for now, I focused on the matter at hand. 

"I noticed that there are quite a few volumes on the subject of making the body immune to poison? It is not a notion that I am familiar with, even given my career in the subject. Which makes me wonder why there's so many volumes of it gathered here?"

Madame Ambrose went silent for quite a few moments, enough time that I begun to grow worried I might have offended her in some way. Her mouth was a hard line, and I could see how her teeth dug into her lip in a way that made me want to lean forward and compel her to stop. I was about to retract my question, when the madame spoke. 

"My father... had an interest in it", she said quietly. 

"Your father?" I asked, mostly shocked that I received a reply at all. "Is that the reason why so many poisonous flowers reside in the garden?" 

"That I can't answer to", Madame Ambrose said in a short, decisive manor, putting an end to any idea of continuing my questioning. "I can not speak for my father's mind, as I don't know the answer myself. If you believe the flowers match the flowers in these books, then that is something you have to see for yourself, doctor. Now, if you excuse me." 

Madame Ambrose rose from her chair, her pale blue skirts unfolding around her as she gracefully strode towards the door. Her pearl necklace glimmered in the light from the windows, adding a white shimmer to the light blue and the blackness of her curls. The smooth movement of the skirts and their soft colour reminded me of waves, and in my mind it was far more breathtaking than the painting _The Birth of Venus_. Luckily I seem to have developed a skill for regaining my breath quickly whenever it is knocked out of me, because before she reached the door I found my voice again and called out to her, without a single tremble in my voice. 

"I apologize if I have offended you in any way, Madame Ambrose. It was not my intention, and I shall be more mindful on how I speak from now on. I beg your forgiveness." 

Madame Ambrose paused, her hand resting on the door handle, but without pulling it open just yet. The air seemed to stand still as I waited for my judgement, hoping she would see how sincerely I regretted causing her pain. I so dearly wanted to wipe away the sadness from her face, and it pained me that I would be the cause of it because of some clumsily chosen words. My relief was great when she turned her head towards me, and spoke with her voice back to the soft velvet I had grown used to. 

"No forgiveness of mine is needed, doctor. Your question was not insensitive, it is merely difficult for me to think about my father at length. You didn't know, and can not be faulted for your words." When I gave a sigh of relief that she wasn't cross with me, she smiled once more. "I do urge you to visit the garden. It is, after all, the reason you came, is it not? It would be a shame to not study it to your heart's content." 

With that she left, not even pausing to give me a moment to reply. The library seemed... empty, without her there. Open, and dull. The colours seemed less vibrant, and the books' beckoning didn't intice me as much anymore. But it seemed Madame Ambrose wanted to be alone for a while, and I would not force my presence upon her. So instead I took her advice, gathered the volumes that had caught my eye and set off towards the garden. 

The garden did manage to take my attention quite well, because not even a heavy heart holds a strong defense against the wonders of botany. I happily spent the rest of the day in the marvelous garden, writing down any discoveries I made at length in my scientific journal. I compared the plants in the gardens to those in the books I had brought from the library. My feeling was correct, and I found that most, if not all, of the flowers not only are highly poisonous but also depicted in the books about immunity against poison. Many of them are deadly if ingested, but many of them are poisonous if exposed to their perfumes for a longer time. I suppose that explains the lack of bugs. That discovery should have left a feeling of dread in me, but my heart was unfaced. The perfumes are not enough to be fatal after only a few hours of exposure. As long as I don't fall asleep in there I shall be perfectly fine. It does, however, make me wonder if this was done on purpose? Was Madame Ambrose's father researching poison immunity? Would my continued exposure leave me immune to poisons, and with that the power to kill with a single kiss, like the presumed Indian woman given to Alexander the Great? With a small laugh I waved the notion away, seeing the absurdity in the idea of developing poison immunity. I know too much about the human body to even entertain the ridiculous idea. My title as doctor is not something I received as a joke, after all. 

However, I found myself longing after Madame Ambrose's company. She is a most interesting and wonderful woman. I hope I can manage to convince her to come to the garden with me sometime.

16th January 1881

I was invited to have breakfast in the dining hall today. It appears that Gerard had been the one to decide that I was eating in my room, not Madame Ambrose. He seemed rather annoyed at having me in the dining hall with the madame, but tolerated my presence since he could not go against his lady's wishes. I do wonder what his problem with me is. He can't be this cross with me for arriving late, especially since I'm hardly at fault for the boat malfunctioning? Oh well, it hardly seems worth it to consider Gerard's icey behaviour towards me, not now that I'm to have breakfast with Madame Ambrose every morning. It will make it easier to catch her attention, and work towards having her with me in the garden. I do not know why she is so distant to the idea.

After breakfast I walked with Madame Ambrose, and tried to discreetly lead ourselves to the garden. I believe she did catch on to me, but she didn't stop me, so I kept it up. We talked during our walk, and she asked me many questions of my home, my life and my childhood. I was happy to answer, and she seemed delighted to learn the smallest detail of my life. When I tried asking her the same questions she grew uneasy however. She didn't seem to enjoy the subject of her father or her sibling (I have learned she had one, at least), and she did mention that she didn't travel, not even down to the city. I'm rather curious, but I decided to keep my questions to myself. I didn't want to upset her, so when she changed subjects I didn't fight her on it.

I did manage to convince her to spend a few minutes in the garden with me, by asking if she could tell me if a certain flower I had found smelled more spicy or sweet, so I could be certain which species it was. I already knew, of course, but the sight of Madame Ambrose, bent down against all the green, her white dress shining against the warm bed of grass, her black curls slipping down from her hair and hanging over her face as she leaned down to carefully smell the flower, was worth playing dumb. After that she did leave, however, but she did invite me to a cup of tea in the library later. I was very excited about it. Indeed, I was so caught up in my ideas of how to spend more time with Madame Ambrose, that I hardly could focus in the garden for another hour or two. I was too busy trying to deduce which flower she enjoyed the most, and I decided to ask her about it during our chat later.

After dinner Madame Ambrose and I took tea in the library, just as she had suggested. I did sneak a few questions about the flowers in the garden into our conversation, amidst our entertaining conversations about other things. She did even tell me a fun story about her brother (her sibling was a boy, apparently) who enjoyed flowers so much he drew them on the wallpaper in the library when he was a child.

"Your parents could not have been happy about that", I laughed, imagining a small boy happily drawing flowers on the wall.

"Oh, they definitely weren't", she laughed.

"If I may ask", I said, as I picked up one of the teacup, inhaling the aroma of sweet tea. "What are your brother doing now? Is he married, perhaps?"

The question, while it seemed innocent in my mind, quickly strained our conversation. Madame Ambrose's smile fell, and pain filled her face as she glanced to the side, as if she couldn't stand to even look in my general direction. It seemed once more I had, in my ignorance, said something dumb and hurt her feelings. I was stunned, wondering what I had said (should I perhaps avoid asking about her family at all?), when she softly spoke.

"He's dead. He fell asleep in the garden one time, and never awoke."

My heart broke in my chest, and I put down the tea cup on the saucer again. I swallowed, knowing I had once again behaved clumsily, and had put the madame through pain. It must be a difficult memory, considering the pain on her face, and I wished that I could take the question back.

"My condolences", I mumbled. "I apologize, I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright", Madame Ambrose said with a soft exhale, as if she was pushing the pain away. "It was long ago. He knew it was dangerous, but he loved them so much. I suppose... I suppose that was the best way for him to go, no? To leave the world surrounded by the things he loved so much."

"I agree", I said quietly. There was a sort of beauty in it. All beings must die, and the idea of dying cradled by things one love... It did seem like a good way to go. There was something comforting in the thought.

"I was rather small", Madame Ambrose said quietly. "My father... My father loved my brother, and he was devastated. He blamed the flowers, and was even close to tear the garden down. My mother stopped him, saying that she wouldn't let him tear down her son's favourite place." 

"That sounds horrible", I said, the pain in my chest real. It was hard to find any good words. I had no way of explaining what I felt, how sad I was to hear of this tragedy. There was no words that fit. I understood now why Madame Ambrose had been so unwilling to talk about it, with those kind of painful memories. This also explains her reaction yesterday when I asked about her father and the poisonous flowers. It must have reminded her of her brother's demise. Not to mention how much I've tried to pull her into the garden with me, when all it is for her is a reminder of her brother and the pain of those memories. I felt deeply guilty over it, and tried to find the words to express how sorry I was. But then she looked at me again, and she smiled so softly.

"I'm glad you're here doctor. It has been rather lonely since my parents died", she said, and my heart swelled in my chest.

"I'm... I'm happy that I can be of help in any way, Madame Ambrose."

"Ah, I think it's past the time where you might start calling me Beatrice, don't you?"

To be honest, the notion was a shock to me. I had never before encountered a wealthy noble who didn't hold tight on ceremony. To be asked to call her by her first name, when I thought that I out of respect ought to refer to her by title, was a shock to my system. But after the story she had just shared, I could hardly say no. Not to mention that my heart leaped in my chest when I asked her to in that case call me by my first name as well, and she replied with a smile.

"I'd love to, Mithri."

16th January 1881 - Addition

Her favourite flowers are oleanders, especially white ones. 

17th January 1881

I found a spider in my room this morning. It is the first living creature, apart from Madame Ambrose, myself and the servants, that I have encountered in the castle. I found it so surprising that for a moment I didn't do anything but just look at it. It must have been at work all night, because a lovely spider web was now put up in the corner of my room. It was still hard at work, it's long legs playing over the strings it had created. I crouched down, looking at it from different angles, watching as it worked on it's new home. I do know quite a few of spiders species, since they are both and asset as well as a danger to the plants I cultivate at home, and I must say I wasn't too surprised when I realised that this particular spider was highly toxic. It seems to be a bit of a theme in this castle. But there's a beauty in it, I believe. Poisonous flowers, that seem so innocent and sweet. It's all that anyone really will know about them, except for those that take a closer look and learn more about them. The true nature underneath the beautiful surface, while not hidden yet invisible at the same time. All it takes is a bit of knowledge to see what the flower truly is, and yet many don't care enough to go even that far. It's like a hidden defense system against those that want to claim things solely for their beauty. A defense against everything except those that know, and accept them for what they are, and respect them. 

I was so deep in my philosophical musings that I didn't notice that the spider had stopped moving. When I did focus on the little creature once more, I found that it was lying still on it's back on the floor, one leg still caught on the unfinished string that now would never be finished. It was startling to see that it had died so suddenly. It wasn't the type of spider to play dead, which means that it actually was dead, from some unseen cause. Had it been so hard at work it had forgotten to eat? Yet, the thought seemed absurd even as it formed in my own mind. Spiders don't starve that easily. So what was the cause?... 

Before I could ponder more about it, Gerard knocked on my door and announced that breakfast was served in the dining hall, and I set off to go downstairs. Madame- I mean, Beatrice, was already at the table, waiting for me when I arrived. I had left her waiting yet again. But she didn't seem to mind, a smile on her beautiful lips as I sat down to the right of her seat at the head of the table. She seemed eager and excited today, yesterday's sadness gone without a trace, like the sun drying away the rain. I had hardly even sat down at the table before she started asking me questions, both about flowers, my work, and where I lived. I happily answered all of her questions as I began to eat, and while I was curious about her I made sure not to ask questions about her family. Instead I asked her about herself, questions about her favourite tea (a strong black tea with raspberries, strawberries and cherries, named Red October. We had it for our last teatime, and I must say she has a great taste in tea), her favourite pastime (reading, before she lost her sight. Now she likes to come up with stories herself to entertain herself, or having books read to her. I must remember to pen those letters I was thinking of), her birthday (15th February), and so on. Towards the end of the breakfast the stream of questions thinned out, and Beatrice threw glances in my direction before looking away again and played nervously with her necklace. It was clear she wanted to ask me something in particular, but I let her summon her courage in peace, without putting pressure on her.

"This... This must seem terribly forward of me", she finally mumbled. "But I was wondering if you, good doctor, would be so kind as to enlighten me... What colour is your hair?" 

The question did stun me, but only because I was so unprepared for it. A question about my appearance wasn't what I had expected, but I couldn't help to smile at it. I could see a soft blush forming on her cheeks, the question so innocent and sweet, and I wanted to kiss her hand. 

"It's brown", I said softly and her face lit up as she whipped her head towards mine. "A soft shade of brown, not exactly dark but certainly not light either. I usually wear it in a braid or in a bun. I don't want to have it in my face during my work, and I do not employ a maid servant to help me with more elaborate hairdos, so I keep to the more simple ones I can perform myself. My bangs part and go down each side of my face, a bit like your own, but they are a bit longer. They reach down to my neckline." 

Beatrice was leaned forward, caught up in my descriptions of myself. Concentration was written over her face, like she was trying to piece together what I gave her into a picture. 

"How are you wearing it today?" she asked. 

"In a bun", I replied. 

"Will you tell me about your face?" 

"I have a rather large nose, to be honest. My mother used to say I was lucky my nose was smooth at least, and not crooked, or I would have looked like I had broken it in a fight. My peers used to tease me about it", I continued, and saw her eyebrows knit together in anger at that. I'm well past the pain in my childhood, but it still warmed my heart to know that Beatrice felt so strongly about wrongs committed against me even so many years ago. But I decided to continue, without dwelling on the subject for too long. "My mouth is a bit small. My eyes are dark brown, almost as deeply as your own, and I've often been told they are my loveliest feature. However, they are hidden behind round glasses, which I've been told is a shame." 

"A shame?" Beatrice scoffed. "It is hardly a shame that you are able to see. It would be a shame if you were unable to do your work simply for the sake of beauty!"

I laughed at that, her strong sense of justice and the urge to come to my defense a soothing feeling in my heart. I put my hand over hers before I realised what I was doing. She jumped a little at it, the sensation clearly a surprise. But she didn't pull away. Instead she leaned in closer, and I got a whiff of her perfume to add to the sensation of her soft skin against mine.

"Thank you kindly for your strong feelings, Beatrice", I said gently. "Shall I continue?" 

"I would be very glad if you did." 

"The continue I will." I said. I cleared my throat and started thinking about what more about my appearance could be of interest for Beatrice. "My skin is rather dark", I settled on. "Not as beautifully dark as your own, but also not white enough for my peers to consider me a beauty. Though that might also be because I am rather... chubby. I usually wear rather simple dresses, because intricate clothes are in the way during my work. I have to be able to bend and dig after all. I prefer darker colours, such as dark green and brown, but I also enjoy pale white. Though I hardly ever wear white to the garden. Imagine the stains!" 

Beatrice giggled at that, and at the sound of that, the first time I had ever heard it, my warmth flare up in my chest. It was a pearling sound, like a small stream, it's clear water shimmering against the vast, heavy darkness in a forest. I was at once filled with the urge to hear more, to lure even more of that beautiful sound out of her. Then I felt my skin lighting on fire, a warmth that spread from my hand that made my breath catch in my throat. When I looked down I saw that Beatrice had intertwined her fingers with mine, and when my head snapped up to her face I saw a blush on her cheeks, and a smile on her lips. 

"I'm surprised that you have been teased so much about your appearance", she said, her voice low and gentle, barely above a whisper, a secret that was for my ears only. "To me you sound like a beauty." 

The rest of the day went by like a dream, a blur yet sharp and clear at the same time. I can both vividly recall it, and not remember a thing. I know that Beatrice continued to hold my hand through the day, and I know that the sound of my name on her lips is more beautiful than any music Beethoven ever managed to compose. I know that for once, my mind was not busy with flowers and science, but with Beatrice. We spent most of the time walking around the castle, and in the library. We even went outside in the snow. Beatrice even made a snow angel! With no regard for her intricate dress! She simply threw herself down into the snow, and begun moving her arms and legs. It made me gasp, and then laugh as I heard Beatrice laugh as well. When she rose from the ground snow was caught in her black curls and her pale pink dress. She took my arm, letting me lead her around the grounds, as we both continued to giggle. She even managed to convince me to make a snow angel as well! 

The only thing that darkened our day together was the painful knowledge that our time would soon be over. I am scheduled to leave the day after tomorrow after all. I only have tomorrow left to spend with her, as I'm leaving rather early on the 19th. I dearly wish I could convince her to let me remain, to extend my stay here, but I dare not ask. It would be terribly rude of me. So instead I will try to enjoy myself as much as possible tomorrow. After dinner I must also go through the books one last time, so that I am sure that I have written down everything that caught my eye. But for now, I need to leave. I can not make a habit of keeping Beatrice waiting! 

17th January 1881 - Continued

I am in ecstasy! At dinner I was talking with Beatrice that I tomorrow wanted to compare a few things from the books to the flowers in the garden, and asked if she would permit me to bring the books there. She not only gave her permission for me to bring the books to the garden, but also said that to make my last evening in the castle memorable we could take dessert in the garden together after dinner. I have been thinking about Beatrice in the garden many times, especially since the moment I managed to convince her to smell a flower in there a few days ago. Her beauty shines so brightly amongst the beauty of nature, like the petals of a white oleander against the darkness of the bush. But I had abandoned the notion when I learned the painful memories she has with the place, as I would never dream of putting her through pain for my own enjoyment of her beauty. I did mention this, but she simply smiled to me and said that it was high time she visited the garden again, and that she wouldn't mind as long as I was with her. It warmed my heart to hear that, and I am so excited for tomorrow that I think I'll hardly be able to sleep tonight. 

After dinner I did venture into the library for a moment, to look for my journal that I thought was in my room but must have left in the library. I was correct, and I found it by the table where Beatrice and I have tea together. I did, however, also find something else. It wasn't one of the beautiful and masterfully bound volumes, full of scientific knowledge written by important scientists, like those that I had found in the library up until that point. Instead it was a journal, not very unlike my own. A personal journal, and when I opened it up I found it was a scientific journal. With the knowledge that I wasn't peeking into someone's private thoughts, but an objective scientific journal, I dared to flip through it. It seems to be a journal over a specific project, and since it was linked with building up immunity to poison I decided to take it with me to my room. With nothing else, I will have it to flip through if I have trouble falling asleep tonight, even though I find myself sceptical to the project. 

17th January 1881 - Continued

I believe I have stumbled upon something rather terrible. 

Last night I wasn't able to fall asleep, so I decided to read a bit from the journal I picked up. It was indeed about building up immunity to poison, but I was rather terrified to find that the journal is over a project with a living human being! A child, as well, no older than four years old! Fed poison! According to the journal, it did work, even if it left horrible side effects. No poison can affect the child, but it also caused her body to produce poison on it's own. Her very breath could be deadly. A reference has been made to the Indian woman presumably given to Alexander the Great, a story I still can't believe to be true. I was rather convinced that this was some mad man's confused scribbles, and that Beatrice's father had gotten his hands on it through his interest in the subject. Then, about half way through, I read something that caused the veins in my body to freeze. 

The child, by now aged twelve and fully immune to poison, was still fed poison to keep her immunity. But something went wrong during this. A poison she should have been immune to, according to the writer, caused a terrible side effect. The poor child went blind. That is when I read the most terrifying passage in the entire journal, which I will copy down here. 

_ "Matilde went into hysterics when she realised our daughter had become blind. She cursed me, said it was my fault, that I had caused both of our children such terrible harm. She said she couldn't stand to live with me anymore, and left the castle. I believe she leapt from the cliff, but I can't say for sure. Now I have only my daughter left, and I will not let any harm come to her. I must continue with my work, I must make her immune. I will not let Beatrice die." _

It made the puzzle pieces fall into place for me, and I finally realised who the writer was. Beatrice's father. He had used his own daughter as a subject to his experiments, given her poison in order to make her immune to it. In his twisted mind he was protecting her, presumably from suffering the same fate as her brother. But instead he had caused her blindness. Yet he would continue... I understand fully now why Beatrice didn't want to talk about her father. Lord knows I wouldn't want to talk about my father too if had this man as a father. 

However... Amidst my pain and pity for Beatrice, that had suffered so much at the hands of her own father, there was something else that stood out to me. Something that chilled me to the bone. Because amidst the crazy scribbles, the writer continued to mention that Beatrice herself... had become poisonous. That her breath was growing deadlier, that her skin could stand against the most poisonous flowers. That her blood itself could serve as a poison. That the most efficient way for this had been to just let her breathe in the perfumes of the flowers he grew. What chilled me was the thought that, if this in some inane way was true, it meant that... the hours I had spent in the garden...? 

I must keep my wits about me. I am a scientist, a doctor, and I will not panic over a scary story in a journal of a mad man without first finding evidence of his claims. I have spent much time with Beatrice, and I am not yet dead. So either she urged me to spend so much time in the garden so I could build up the necessary immunity to stand against her breath, or she is only poisonous if she were to kiss me. Not to mention that these options are based on the theory that Beatrice actually is poisonous, which I still find hard to believe. That her blindness was caused by poison I certainly can imagine, I know painfully much about botany to know that to be possible, but for her body to actually develop poison within her? No, I must first see if I can find evidence of this, before I let my imagination race away with me. I will not let this cloud my image of Beatrice either, since it's clear that she's innocent in this. Her father started feeding her it when she was four, for heaven's sake! She can hardly be thought to have any fault for her condition, if it truly exists. I don't believe I can just ask her, however, because if she hasn't developed this condition then I will terribly offend her, which is the last thing I want. So instead I will see if I can collect evidence without her knowing about it. 

Luckily it is still night, so I have plenty of time to figure something out before morning. For now, I think I shall see if I can find any more spiders around here, because there is something I want to test. 

...

I found a couple spiders, hiding away in a corner. When I crouched down in the hallway, close enough to see them clearly but not enough to scare them away, I studied them carefully. I then breathed at them. Nothing happened, and I felt not only silly but paranoid where I was, crouching down in a hallway in the middle of the night, and breathing on a pair of spiders with much concentration. But, I am a scientist, and I know the importance of multiple tests. So I breathed once more, making sure to make my exhale as long as possible, and as close to the spiders that I could come. This time they both paused, and stood completely still for a moment or two. Then they both, at the same time!, fell over onto their backs. Their long legs shriveled up, curling up over their bellies. They remained still, and even when I poked one of them, they didn't stir. 

It seems that my theory was, after all, correct. It seems Lord Ambrose was onto something after all, no matter how baffling it sounds. Seeing that I apparently have started to develop the poison after my hours in the garden, I wonder what that says about Beatrice. Considering how little time I've spent among poisons compared with her, I believe I could grow past this condition. Beatrice however.... After all these years... I don't believe there's any way to save her. Her poison most also be many times more potent than mine. This... Also explains why she said she didn't travel, despite being a wealthy woman. I cursed Lord Ambrose while I walked back to my room, considering what possible choices I have now. It seems wrong of me to abandon Beatrice now that I know her condition, but I can't cure her either. 

When I reached my room, however, a conviction had formed in my mind. I am certain of what I must do. 

18th February 1881

I spent the day with Beatrice. The garden, and the library, had faded from my interest. I wanted to cherish every moment in her presence, to learn as much as I could about her, and to hear her sparkling laugh. She seemed shy today, perhaps because I am scheduled to leave soon. But she still held my hand, as she lead me around with a sparkling smile on her lips. I indulged her in whatever notion crossed her mind. We took a walk in the snow again, we had tea in the library, and I read to her from my own journal. I decided to pick the flowers that aren't toxic, and I also was happy to tell her everything I know about her favourite flower, the white oleander. She seemed rather taken, and we didn't spend a moment apart today, at least not until she had to change for dinner. As I was walking back to my own room to freshen up and to change into my best dress, I passed Gerard. 

"Doctor?" he said, stopping me. "May I have a word?" 

"Of course", I said, wondering what this man who had seemed to despise me so wanted to talk about. 

"I...", he started, and then sighed. What he was about to say seemed to hurt deeply, and it seemed difficult for him to form the words. "I would like to apologize for my behaviour against you. You are the madame's guest, and I should have behaved as such. It is simply that... I was worried about the madame, since I wasn't aware of what kind of character you were." 

The final puzzle piece fell into place for me. Of course he was worried, of course he was protective over his lady. She had been through so much pain and suffering from such a young age, and was now stuck in this castle all alone. Of course he was worried that I would cause her pain in some way. With that realisation I saw him in a new light. The small inconveniences I had suffered from his well placed worry was hardly enough for to warrant an apology anymore. 

"It is quite alright. I believe I understand why", I said, which made him glance at me. 

"You do, doctor?" 

"Indeed", I said. "I... Well, I stumbled over an old journal, written by Lord Ambrose. If it's to be believed then Beatrice has suffered far more than anyone ever should." 

Gerard seemed stunned over my words, both that I knew about something that was a family secret, but also that I shared his sentiment. I believe he was worried that I would see Beatrice as... as a monster, not a victim of consequence. That is reason enough to be cold towards anyone, and my annoyance with him had far since faded away, leaving only compassion in its wake. He glanced up and down the hallway, before turning his attention back to me. He stared me deeply in my eyes, considering my words for a moment, before he slowly nodded. 

"I did warn her ladyship, Matilde, about marrying Lord Ambrose. But she was head over heels, and it's not my place to meddle with affairs of my lady's heart. So I kept quiet, and I fear it only brought ruin upon her and her family. He ruined her happiness and her mind. All that's left now is Beatrice, and she has suffered so. I simply didn't want any more harm to come to her." 

"So it's true? That he poisoned her? That he made _her_ poisonous?" I asked, in a low whisper, to make sure it stayed between us. It would be bad for both of us if Beatrice or someone else was to hear and misinterpret our words. 

"Indeed", Gerard mumbled quietly, pain in his face and downcast eyes. "That terrible man robbed her of her life." 

"Thank you, Gerard, for telling me. I can promise you at least that I will not cause harm to Beatrice." 

"That warms me", Gerard said, and bowed. "I'll leave you to get ready for dinner, doctor." 

With the conversation with Gerard in my mind I got dressed for dinner. The confirmation of my fears had only steeled my resolve further. I knew exactly what I had to do, the only thing to do when faced with the terrible consequences of a mad man's experiments. But to honor the evening I took extra care in my appearance. I donned my favourite dress, a deep green and intricate dress that I hardly ever had a chance to wear, too intricate to wear while working. It complimented my curves nicely instead of attempting to hide them, and the rather low neckline allowed my neck to be visible as I put up my hair into a braid. My own jewelry were simple, especially compared to Beatrice’s, but it was the type of jewelry that I found suited me. A simple black necklace, tight around my neck, that complimented my skin and hair, and two small green earrings to match my dress. I took a moment to polish my glasses as well, and then went down to the dining hall. 

Beatrice wouldn't be able to see my attire, but I wanted to look my absolute best, knowing full well that she would dress up as well for me. It felt ungrateful to dress normally during such a special evening. It seemed like my assemble had been a success at least, because the servants did throw glances after me, surprised to see me in a more intricate dress. But no matter how much I tried, I would never outshine Beatrice. She came down the stairs just as I was about to enter the dining hall, and when I looked up at her I was frozen to the spot. 

Her dress was shining white, perfectly unsullied like the snow outside. Her black skin contrasted gorgeously against it, and in her black curls I could see hair pins of white pearls sparkling like stars in the night sky. A white necklace of pearls shone around her neck. It hugged her throat tightly, and three lines of pearls dropped down from the collar down to her bosom. She was truly, truly gorgeous, and seeing her descend the stairs I felt like I watched an angel descend from heaven. It reminded me of the first time I had met her, standing at the bottom of the stairs in the hall, and watching her come down the stairs, her beauty intoxicating me. This time I did find my voice that I had lost earlier, and I called out to her before she could collide with her. 

"Good evening, Beatrice", I said softly, and had the fortune of watching her face light up in a smile at my voice. 

"Mithri!" she said, excitement in her voice. "It certainly is a good evening, is it not?" 

"Now that I see you, I can certainly say that it is."

"My, how suave!" Beatrice exclaimed with a giggle, glancing away to hide her blush, but I caught it anyway. I extended my arm to her and she allowed me to lead her into the dining hall. Dinner was as extravagant as Beatrice's assemble this evening. Marvelous courses I had never had the chance to eat before, and that now danced on my palate. Strong spices, coupled with freshness and something almost sweet. It paired perfectly, and the wine was delicious. Beatrice and I talked and talked, as easy as before, and I let myself be swept up in her conversations. She let down her defenses for me, and the serene look I had grown used to in the beginning was now exchanged for her bubbly personality. I adored it, I truly did. I could have sat there and listened to her for hours on end, if only the heavens would allow me. 

But dinner came to an end yet again, and it was time for the finale. Together, hand in hand, Beatrice and I walked towards the garden for our dessert. Outside the darkness had claimed the territory, and I was a little confused about how we would be able to see inside the garden without the sun's light. There was no other source of light in there, only the sun's gracious light. When we arrived the garden was, as I had expected, pitch black. I couldn't see anything that would make it easier for us to have our dessert in there, but when Beatrice urged me to open the door, I obeyed. 

As soon as I opened the door a gasp escaped me. The greenhouse was dark, indeed, but there was light there as well. Candles were lining the walls, were stuck between the rocks around the pound, and a heavy candelabra was placed on the table that had been set up for us. It was a beautiful sight, to see these small points of light together work to light up the darkness around it all. It was like I had stepped into the heavens, surrounded by stars of the night sky. In the darkness, with the candles gently caressing her, Beatrice's white dress and jewels stood out. The moon among the stars. I couldn't do anything but smile as I looked at her, once again taking in the beauty before me. 

"It's beautiful", I whispered, and I saw her face light up with a smile. 

"I'm glad", she said softly. "I wanted to really create a fond memory for you." 

"This whole week is a memory I will cherish for the rest of my life." 

"It warms me to hear you say that." 

Dessert was served at the table, the tea prepared at the table, and I could tell by the aroma that it was Red October, Beatrice's favourite. But I couldn't manage to sit down at the table, the emotions within me too strong. A sense of urgency swept over me like a flood wave, the sensation that if I didn't say it to her now I never would. When she moved towards the table I remained still, and when she noticed I wasn't following her she stopped as well. She looked over at me, her beauty radiant even in darkness, and my heart swelled. My resolve grew to steel in my chest, and I took a step forward. 

"Mithri?" she asked. 

"Beatrice, there is something I must tell you." 

"What is it?" 

"I... found your father's journal." 

Beatrice froze. Her hand stiffened in mine, and for a moment I couldn't even hear her breathing. Her hand trembled for a moment, before she pulled it from mine and clutched it against her chest, as if I had burned her. She took a step back, desperate to put distance between us. I remained standing where I was, not wanting to trap her. 

"It wasn't on purpose. I had gotten halfway through before I realised you were in the journal. If I had known I never would have picked it up. But, the fact remains... I know what he did to you." 

"How... How could you?!" Mithri gasped, the pain and betrayal in her voice shattering my heart. "You knew that, and yet you lead me to believe you cared for me! You dragged me along on your games, making a fool of me! You played with my heart, for- for... for what?! So you could enjoy shattering it now, the night before you leave?" 

"It's not like that", I said softly, letting her vent her betrayal before I demanded that she listened to me. "I found out last night. I didn't know before. I never played with your feelings, Beatrice. I would never do that to you." 

“You think me a monster, don't you? A monstrous creature that poisons everything with a single breath, that can never be allowed outside this castle. I will never have a chance on a true life. I'm captured in the garden that killed my brother and stole my life, another flower in my father's collection. That's all you think of me, isn't it?!" 

Beatrice collapsed to her knees, a flower falling from a broken stem, tears flowing down her cheeks as she wailed. Her broken sobs crushed me, and I had to fight back my own tears as I slowly walked closer. There was a lump in my throat, the worry that there might have been a better way to tell her this. I hated myself for causing her pain, but there was nothing left to do but to continue down the road I had chosen. I couldn't leave her heartbroken and wailing in the garden. 

"Beatrice", I said softly as I sat down on my knees in front of her. 

"Out!" she screamed at me. "I regret ever thinking about inviting you here! Out of my home this instant!" 

"You are not a monster", I whispered to her, making her pause amidst her pain, and glance up at me. Her sobbings paused for a moment, so I took the chance to continue. "Your father is the monster, not you. You, Beatrice, are a wonderful, magnificent person that I feel so incredibly lucky to have met. Everything I've said and done this week has been completely honest. I'm honest now. I adore you." 

"You're lying again", she whispered, but her conviction was faltering. I placed my hands on her cheeks. It was something I had wished to do for so long, to feel her soft skin against my fingers as I caressed her cheek. Now it was wet with tears, and I pushed through the shards of my heart to gently wipe them away. 

"I love you, Beatrice", I breathed, leaning in closer. "To prove to you that I'm not lying, may I kiss you?" 

"You'll surely die if you do", she breathed, her voice trembling, but she didn't pull away. "I'm poisonous, remember?" 

"I know", I replied, and leaned in closer. I did it slowly, letting her sense how close I was, and give her the opportunity to pull away if my advances were unwanted. I could feel her breath against my face, could sense her sniffling a little from the sobbing. She placed one hand on my shoulder, neither pushing me away, nor pulling me closer. But I remained still, not willing to advance before I knew that I was allowed to. "May I?"

Instead of replying Beatrice's fingers curled into my dress, and she pulled me in. The movement closed the gap between us I hadn't dare to cross, and our lips met. Her lips were soft, sweet and gentle. They trembled a little, still scared, but she kept me close. Her eyes had fluttered shut, and I could feel that she leaned into the kiss, abandoning the fear for my fate at the sensation of the kiss. I gently kissed her, tasting the lingering aroma of the wine at her lips. She was so close to me, closer than she'd ever been before, her hands clinging to me like a lifeline. I could feel her racing pulse against my pinky finger, and she pushed closer to me, savouring the kiss for a moment longer before she pulled away. Her unseeing eyes stared up at me, fear, love and sadness mixing together in her face. A lone tear escaped her eye and ran down her face once more. 

"You love me?" she whispered. 

"Yes." 

"You love me... and my kiss have killed you." Her voice trembled again, and she clung to my dress, like she was worried I would fade from existence if she let go of me. I gently caressed her cheek, trying to calm down the mounting pain in her features. "I am a monster, just like I said... You love me, and now you'll die for it." 

"If you're a monster", I mumbled softly, "then surely I am as well. For my own immunity is building up as well." 

"You can't!" Beatrice shrieked, and jumped back from me. She scrambled against the tea table, pain and fear written in her wide eyes and how she slammed her hand over her mouth in shock. "You need to leave! If you leave now, you can probably be cured. You will only become more poisoned in here. Leave! Go back to your normal life!" 

"I can't", I said, and once more moved closer to her. I reached out to caress the back of her hand, and watched it tremble with emotion at my touch. "I can't leave. I love you, Beatrice." 

She gasped, her face contorted with pain as the tears welled up again. She sniffled loudly, turning her head away from me, and let the tears flow freely. Tears of pain, the betrayal that faded, carried away by the tears at the knowledge I hadn't betrayed her after all. Tears of joy, relief, and worry. She cried, and in the light of the candles I saw that a black curl had escaped her hairdo and was hanging down over her face as she wailed. Then she threw herself into my arms again, hugging me tightly. She cried into my shoulder, and I held her, letting her cry out all the emotions I had put her through. The tears ran in waves down her cheeks, pooling at my shoulder, and I gently caressed her back to help her calm down.

"I love you too", she whispered into my shoulder. "I loved having you here, and the more I learned about you, the more I loved you. I've been so afraid for the moment you'll leave. That I would have to remain here without you, with only a cruel taste of what we had left on my tongue. Mithri... I love you." 

She leaned back so she could stare up at my face, and her trembling hands found my cheeks. She used that to guide her, and she leaned in closer, leaning as close as possible. Her white dress pooled onto my green one, flower petals flowing over the stem and the leaves, and she held me closely, and she kissed me again. Her lips were just as soft, but now the kiss was more eager. She wasn't afraid of kissing me anymore, now that she knew it wouldn't kill me, and the tears fell from both our eyes as we clung to each other on the ground of the garden, with only the candle light lighting up the darkness around us, as she kissed me again and again. 

"I love you", I said between kisses. 

"I love you, Mithri." 

19th January 1881

Have finally penned the letters to my friends about how their books for the blind are coming along. Gerard said he'll be posting them this evening. I have also penned a letter back home to my assistant that my stay has been extended and that I'll be back on the 28th. I haven't told him yet that my return will simply be for gathering my belongings before I return to the alps. I gather it would be best to tell him that in person. 

Beatrice and I spent the day in the library. I penned my letters, and read for her. She shared stories with me, and we laughed together. She is more open about her family now, willing to talk about it, but she focuses on her mother and brother, and the fun memories. I have no intention to pry into any other memory. I am happy just as is, to see my dearest talk so lively with me. Her energy is contagious, and I can't wait for the memories we'll create together to talk about. But for the moment, my fondest memory will be right here and now, watching her smile among the oleanders, and knowing that she is happy. 

I believe I'll be quite happy here. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are highly apprecieated!


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